Shadows & Smoke
by WinchesterKarma67
Summary: When she saw the sun start to die, it was her first taste of freedom. An archangel with free will is betrayed by her new family of witches turns to the Winchesters for help. Set S12. Protective!Castiel Protective!Sam Protective!Dean, Eventual Romance. A gift for peddlergirl.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This story is a gift for the lovely Peddlergirl. Thank you. See the end notes for more details. I own nothing.**

Pain. Her entire being screamed with a blinding pain that was _nothing_ like she had ever felt before.

When she saw the sun start to die, it was her first taste of freedom. She had spent her entire existence tied to God, constantly on call. She'd served him from the shadows without even being given a name in return.

When the sun didn't die, she searched for him and one thing quickly became apparent. Chuck had left the building. She was free. Even locked in the cage all that time, Lucifer had more freedom than she'd ever experienced. Taking a page out of Gabriel's playbook, she found the perfect cover for an archangel trying to live among humans. She posed as a witch and formed a coven under the name 'Lilah'.

The coven consisted of a few lost humans she was hoping to give a better life. They were abused, traumatized, and in need of a family. She taught them things like warding and healing. Lilah encouraged them to learn and explore as long as they never harmed others or themselves in the process.

They'd been doing well for a while. Until Will, the most gifted among them, started asking about time travel. She'd tried to tell Will how dangerous time travel was for everyone. Instead of heading her warnings, he discussed it more with the coven. He never kept his desires to lead the coven a secret and took this as an opening. Over a couple weeks, it became a whispered obsession. They all had things they wanted to fix. They all had things that they needed to never have happened.

Lilah knew that things were taking a horrible turn, Will became more ambitious every day. But this was her mess and she couldn't simply walk away from it. Deep down, she needed this family as much as they did. It would've been more than leaving a mess, it would've been abandonment.

She walked in on them performing a spell. They had all of the ingredients for time traveling except one, the wing of an angel. It was meant to summon and trap the nearest one. They uttered the last words in Latin and she found herself trapped in a circle of holy fire. Instead of releasing Lilah and stopping this mad quest, they simply gave her looks of shock and betrayal.

She tried to explain, but they wouldn't listen. They locked her in a warded, windowless room in the basement while they fought amongst each other about what to do with her. They didn't reach the decision quickly.

The coven sent Heather in to talk to her. Heather was a kind and sweet person. She'd been one of the first to join the coven and among Lilah's favorites. "Don't worry. If this spell works, we won't need to go back in time again when we get to this point. It'll be like it never happened." She explained their reasoning to Lilah as if it were simple and it should all make sense.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have no idea. None of you understand what you're about to get yourselves into. You need to stop this before it's too late. Please, Heather. You need to listen to me."

Heather frowned and turned away. "Look, we're all grateful for everything you've done for us… But we all agreed, this has to be done."

" _All_ of you agreed?" Lilah cast the young woman a sidelong glance.

Heather sighed and gave her a mournful look. "I thought you'd understand."

"Oh, Heather…" Lilah spoke gently and placed a hand on her arm. "I understand, I really do. But this isn't the way to fix things. This kind of magic is dangerous with unpredictable consequences at best. At worst… you don't want to know."

"Then tell me. Why did you lie to us?" She looked genuinely hurt. Lilah could tell that this is what pushed some of them to side with Will.

"I'm sorry I lied. I needed a fresh start, a new life." Lilah sighed. Heather's betrayal hurt. "I thought _you_ —out of everyone—would understand.

Heather took it in for a moment before taking a step back. "I'm sorry." She turned and left Lilah behind in the dim room.

Will and Brad came in after Heather left. Brad was always in Will's corner since day one and now it looked like he was going to either be the muscle, second in command, or both. Will began to set up for a spell while Brad approached Lilah with chains.

"Please, Brad. You don't have to do this." She slowly retreated to the back of the room as she tried to talk him out of this.

He simply shook his head. "I don't have a choice. I can't live with—" He glanced up at the archangel. "Well… you know."

Lilah was powerless with the warding. Knowing what they were going to do made everything ten times worse. She begged and pleaded—a rare thing in her existence—as Brad shackled her arms above her head to an exposed pipe. This was going to be _bad._

The task of obtaining her wing was a three step process. First, Will conjured her angel blade and Brad took it from her. She watched as they looked at it with fascination before moving on.

Will then proceeded with a spell that would force her wings to manifest. The young men had no way of understanding what a violation that was for an angel. For Lilah, it was the equivalent of being stripped. They were so awestruck, they missed the tear rolling down her cheek and the look of defiance she was giving them. Will and Brad even stepped forward to touch her.

"Don't…" Lilah meant it to sound like a warning, but it came out as a plea. They ran their hands through her black, iridescent feathers. She knew then that she stopped being Lilah to them. They saw her as a creature, a thing. And worse yet, she was a thing that had something that they needed.

Will made eye contact with her for the first time. He stepped in front of her with her angel blade clutched tightly. He spoke calmly, quietly. "Right or left?"

The question sent shivers down her spine. Her heart raced with terror. "Will. Undo this. Please…"

He simply sighed. Ice cold dread washed over Lilah. "I think you're right handed. Left it is."

"No… No! Don't do this. You don't have to do this Will!" Lilah tried to move away from the blade and tucked back her wings as much as she could.

Will signaled to Brad as he stepped behind her. Brad grabbed her left wing and stretched away from her body. Lilah didn't have time to brace herself before a searing pain enveloped her. It felt like an eternity as they mutilated her. Will's inexperience caused him to hesitate and work slowly—making the experience even worse if it were possible.

The agony was so overwhelming that she didn't realize they had finished until one of them unlocked the shackles and she fell to the floor. They left her alone there. Lilah remained motionless on the floor. Blood and grace leaked out of her wound creating an eerie pool around her. A few feathers littered the floor as well and trailed off towards the door.

Mercifully, Heather walked in and erased some of the sigils. She had the decency so show some guilt and sadness. "You need to heal or you'll bleed out. I know you can't with these here."

Immediately, the pain lessened enough for Lilah to become barely coherent. "Th—thank you." Her voice was a whisper. She didn't know if Heather even heard her as she left. As she became more aware, she wondered what they would do with her now. Would they simply use the spell and just leave her? Or would they need something else angelic to power up another spell later? Maybe they would just kill her. Right now, that sounded like a mercy.

Lilah rolled from her stomach onto her right side when she had the strength. She blinked up at the painted walls that kept her trapped here. As she examined the smudged sigils more closely, Lilah saw an opportunity. Whether Heather meant to or not, she had erased enough for Lilah to be able to escape. Flying was no longer an option. And with the coven still around, neither was leaving through the front door—even if she could go unnoticed on the streets. There was one spell that _might_ work if she could concentrate enough to complete it.

Summoning all of her strength, she stood shakily. Every movement, every step was pain. She used the wall for support after stumbling multiple times and falling once. The loss of a wing caused her to feel off balance on top of everything else.

Everything from the spells had been removed except for the table. Lilah leaned heavily on the surface. Using her own blood, she drew sigils on the empty table top. She smeared blood on her hand before whispering a few phrases in Enochian. Lilah braced herself before finishing the spell and touching her hand to the table.

There was a blinding light. A fierce wind whipped around her and she actually felt the speed of flying for the first time. After a few disorienting moments filled with uncertainty and panic, the world came into clear focus. A man turned around and gave her a puzzled look. It worked. She could hardly believe that she actually pulled it off.

"Who are you?" It was the first question and only natural. He rushed towards her.

The edges of Lilah's vision were going black. She'd overexerted herself escaping. "Castiel… Help me." She lost consciousness and collapsed into his arms.

Castiel sank to the floor with her in his arms. He cast a panicked look around the bunker. "Dean! Sam!"

 **AN: I have much more in store! But a quick note, I started a go fund me for a dear friend of mine. She helped me with a few gish items and she is truly a wonderful person. Please take a look and consider donating or maybe just give the page a signal boost.**

 **www. gofundme (add the dot com)/ kkyqpx-peddlergirl-goes-to-creationcon-dc**


	2. Chapter 2

**For peddlergirl.**

Castiel could hear Sam and Dean running.

"Cass?!" Dean's voice rang through the halls.

"In here! Quickly!" Castiel couldn't take his eyes off of the tortured angel in his arms, his expression was an echo of the unspeakable horror she had endured.

Sam got there first. His eyes widened and he froze at the sight. The woman in Castiel's arms was nearly lost beneath the mountain of bloody, black, iridescent feathers that stretched and arced away from her body—even in unconsciousness. Sam would've been breathless at the raw beauty of her wing no matter what, but it was the negative space on her left side where a wing was missing that nearly made his heart stop. He'd never seen anything more than the shadows of angel wings or the scorch marks they left behind when an angel died. The contrast between her beauty and the brutality of her injuries was jarring. Black iridescent feathers and dark blood only made her skin look paler. Looking at Cass, there was no mistaking how grim the situation was. Cass was kneeling on the floor and held her as if they both might spontaneously combust. Sam thought he could see Castiel's hand shake slightly as he ran it down his face, leaving a small streak of blood down his cheek. Dean nearly bumped into Sam from behind as he stood there and tried to take everything in.

"Cass! What's wrong?" His voice was laced with worry as he rushed into the room. Dean couldn't see past Sam and shifted for a better view. The scene before him and the lost look on Castiel's face unnerved him. "Holy… What the hell happened, Cass?" Dean rushed forward, spurring Sam into motion as well. The question didn't register immediately to Castiel and only heightened Dean's anxiety.

He didn't jump when Dean touched him, but it was close. "Hey, you ok?" Dean asked breathlessly, noting all of the blood covering the front of Castiel's trench coat as he crouched down. It didn't look like it was his blood, but he had to be sure.

"I'm… fine." Castiel glanced between Sam and Dean helplessly. "I—I was just researching… She appeared."

"The bunker is a no fly zone… Angels and demons can only get in if we summon one or let them in through the front." Sam's brain kicked into gear. He looked at the unconscious angel and eyed the room. "How'd she get past the sigils and spell work? Did she say anything?" Something powerful either drove or sent her here. Something powerful enough to cut off an angel's wing and nearly kill said angel.

Castiel shook his head slightly. "She knew my name and asked for help before collapsing."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. The situation was vague at best and angels weren't much more trustworthy than demons most of the time. "Do you know her? Is she a friend of yours?"

"I don't…" His brows furrowed together. "I don't know her." Castiel was genuinely puzzled. He had at least heard of every angel over the millennia. And with angels rapidly dying over the last few years, he knew every one left alive. "I've never seen her before…"

"Then it's your call." Dean looked Cass in the eye.

Sam's jaw dropped. He didn't understand how Dean could consider not helping her. "Dean—"

"Sam, we've been screwed by angels too many times—no offense, Cass. If Cass says she's good, we help. If not… we don't take that risk." Dean's voice was firm and held no room for arguments. The air filled with tension in the briefest moment of silence that followed.

Castiel realized that her fate was literally in his hands. She came to the bunker as if Death himself dropped her on their doorstep, pleading for help. There was also something out there collecting angel parts to consider. "Leaving her to die wouldn't be right. Besides, whoever is capable of doing this is the bigger threat. At the very least we need more information." Castiel nodded. "Help me get her to the table." He moved to carry her injured side while Sam lifted her from the right and Dean lifted her legs.

"Tell us how to help her, Cass." Sam let out a breath as they carefully laid her out on her stomach. His eyes darted across her body, trying to assess where to even begin. Usually, angels healed quickly—if they were hurt at all. She was still bleeding pretty badly from what he could tell.

Castiel's expression was pained. "I do not have the power to heal her and frankly—I've never seen an angel so…" He trailed off, beyond words.

"Right." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Dean, go grab the first aid kit." He looked to Cass with as much confidence as he could muster. "Until we figure something else out or she can talk to us, we patch her up the best we can."

Castiel turned his head to the side slightly. "Like a human." A look of discomfort swept across his face as he understood what Sam hadn't said.

"Like a human." Sam nodded in confirmation and swallowed down the uneasiness he felt.

Dean returned quickly with the kit and some clean towels and water. Sam grabbed the scissors and set to work. Her shirt was nearly shredded in the back but still needed to be cut off so he could get a better look. When Sam carefully peeled back the torn, bloody fabric, all three of them gasped.

Castiel's eyes widened and he stepped back before turning away. If angels could feel nausea, Cass felt pretty confident that he would've thrown up on the spot.

Sam swallowed hard and nearly froze. "Shit."

Dean ran a hand over his face before asking what they all knew to be true. "Is that—"

"Grace?" Castiel's voice was quiet with a rough edge to it. "Yes. Yes it is, Dean."

The area where the wing had been severed glowed and leaked out small blue wisps of grace as she continued to bleed heavily. It was like a glowing, blue fog over a lake of the darkest red. The jagged wound was surrounded by cuts and gashes with varying lengths and depths running down her back. Whatever did this was ugly and brutal. The wing hadn't been taken with a single stroke. It had been sliced at and hacked away.

Dean began cleaning the area and applying pressure while Sam readied a needle and thread to stitch what could be stitched. She didn't move an inch as the peroxide ran over her damaged back. The edges of the jagged gash and every cut seemed to hiss angrily as they foamed. Even though she was passed out, Dean winced in sympathy. Peroxide had a way of burning in a wound that he could only compare to throwing holy water on a demon.

"What the hell could do this anyways, Cass?" Whenever he looked at her face, Sam didn't see an injured angel. He saw a woman that had been brutally ripped apart. He tried to think of her as just another angel, but it didn't work. Sam couldn't help but try and figure out how and why this had happened to her. He couldn't remember the cage anymore, but he often wondered about and certain things, odd things would occasionally set him on edge without explanation. As he bit back a wave of anxiety that he wouldn't normally feel, Sam couldn't help but think he'd seen something like this before. In the back of his mind, he found himself briefly wondering what color her eyes were…

"Angel blades and heavenly weapons are the only things capable of doing that kind of damage." Castiel finally turned back to face Sam and Dean as he spoke. "But beyond that, it could've been anything as long as it was powerful enough to contain her."

Dean looked up at Cass. "How powerful are we talking?"

Castiel closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It had to trap her and contain her. Whatever did this, kept her bound while forcing her wings to manifest before..." He let out a heavy sigh before continuing. "The fact that she is losing grace and is still alive leads me to believe she was at full power when she was captured."

" _Jesus…_ " Dean's face mirrored the horror on Castiel's for a moment before he slipped back into the quiet focus he had before.

Sam was already working on the stitches. He had counted over a dozen and cringed when he thought about how many more were still needed. "I can sew her shut and stop the bleeding. When will she start to heal again, Cass?"

"I—I don't know. The fact that she's unconscious and you are able to give her stiches is a testament to her weakened state. If she were any stronger, the needle wouldn't pierce her skin."

Dean looked up and took in Castiel's posture and expression. His eyes looked haunted as he watched Sam stitching up the gash where her wing should be. Dean cleared his throat before speaking. "Hey, uh… It's not gonna be pretty, but Sammy and I have a lot of practice patching each other up, Cass. I think we've got this if you want to get a room ready. Maybe see if you can find some clean clothes for her." Cass needed something to do and there was no reason he needed to watch this.

Castiel looked up at the Winchesters and his blue eyes regained a level of focus now that he had a direction to go in. "Right. But what if—"

Sam spoke without as he worked. He didn't know if or when she would wake up. "The stitches are holding and it'll stop the bleeding. We're going to need to use a binding link..." He paused and ran a hand on his arm absentmindedly.

Cass's face held a dozen unanswered questions and tensed with concern at Sam's trailing thought. Dean understood and picked up where Sam left off. "Keep working, Sammy." His voice softened. "Cass, look at the stitches. It's closing the wound and stopping the bleeding, but she's still losing grace around the thread. The binding link will secure her to her vessel. A marker will smear too easily and we aren't about to burn or carve into her." Dean stroked his jaw. "I'm going to make a charm while for her to wear while Sam finishes."

Cass's eyes pinched with shock and he cast a distressed glance at the woman on the table. "Dean, you are talking about _binding_ a celestial being that has already been trapped and tortured. She—"

Sam cut Castiel off. "Damn it, I know!" Cracks were beginning to show in his mask of calm composure. He shut his eyes against the voice inside his brain screaming about how wrong this all was. "I know, Cass." Sam's voice softened and he spared Castiel a pained look before working again. "But it's not like we have a lot of options. I'm not about to put her in warded cuffs or keep her in the dungeon. I'd be happy to try something else if you have another idea."

Cass opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. His eyes darted between the Winchesters and the tortured angel.

Sam filled the silence when Cass had no response. "After we finish, there's going to be a fair amount of bandaging and then there's the other wing. My shirts are the largest. Find some that button down the front so she won't need to move as much. Make a cut down the back for her wing."

Dean gave Castiel a reassuring look and nodded. "Go ahead, Cass. She's out cold. We'll call for you when it's time to move her or if anything changes. Also, you might want to get cleaned up and change…" Dean gestured to Cass's bloody clothes. "You've, uh, got some blood on your face, bud."

Castiel looked down and brushed the back of his hand across his cheek distractedly. He seemingly realized he was covered in blood for the first time. He gently pulled a bloody feather off of his shirt and stared at it. For a moment, he looked lost in thought before he spoke quietly. "Y-you're right, Dean. I should change… The closest room is down the hall on the right. I'll have everything ready and return." Castiel quickly strode out of the room without another word, the feather still clutched in his fingers.

Sam was halfway through sewing up the largest cut where a wing should have been. Dean let out a sigh once Castiel was out of earshot and began gathering supplies. "He's not going to like it when I add the angel warding to her room."

"What?" Sam spared Dean a sidelong glance. He couldn't be serious.

"Sam, we have no idea what's after her or who Charlie's Angel even is. I hope she's playing for our team, but Cass can't even put an ID on her. Until we know for sure, I'm not taking any risks."

"C'mon, Dean. You heard what Cass said. Look at her. She's not exactly in a position to fight."

"You're not wrong. But the best case scenario is that she is in the middle of some cosmic shit storm that we know nothing about. We have no idea who or what did this, why, or if it's going to come after her. The warding is for her safety, too." Dean found the box he'd been looking for. Small, blank discs rattled around inside. He opened it and debated whether iron or silver would be best before pulling out an older piece of iron covered in fine rust about the size of a quarter. "Perfect."

Sam's jaw ticked and he went silent for a minute, counting out three more stitches. "Fine. For the record, I don't like it."

Deep down, Dean didn't like their options any more than Sam did but he wasn't willing to take the chance. "There's steel wool and Rust-oleum in the garage. You got this?"

"She's not bleeding as badly. I think so." Sam knew he would finish the largest area soon. There were at least three deep cuts that needed attention and he hoped he wouldn't find more. "Just hurry."

Dean dashed off to the garage and made quick work of polishing the symbol into the rust. It seemed to shine brilliantly in contrast to the dull oxidation of the surrounding metal. Detailing the car a thousand times over and making his own bullets had given him more than enough experience to polish a binding link into rust. He gave the aerosol can three shakes before spraying down his work in a clear coat, sealing the sigil in permanently.

When he returned, Sam was applying bandages and gently packing up her back. Dean was planning on using the thread from the first aid kit as a necklace to hang the charm from. He frowned when he realized there wasn't enough left over. "Hey Sam, you got anything?"

Sam looked up and realized what the problem was. "Here. Finish taping down the gauze." Dean took over and Sam stepped away from the table. He took off the flannel shirt he wore over his black t-shirt. "Cass isn't done getting everything ready yet." Sam grabbed the scissors and cut a thin strip of fabric from the bottom of the shirt before cutting a strip down the back for her wing. He examined the charm for a moment before running the fabric through the small hoop attached to the pendent. Gently, he brushed her dark hair to the side and secured it behind her neck.

The wisps of grace receded. Dean allowed himself a satisfied smile as the binding link worked.

"It actually doesn't look half bad, Dean. Who knew you were so good at making jewelry?" Sam let out a dry chuckle.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents." Dean looked up after applying the last of the bandages.

"Yeah, right. How about we get her dressed?" Sam held out the altered shirt.

"Wing first?" Dean held opened the shirt and tried to determine the best way to do this.

"I think so. I'll lift while you move the shirt." Sam carefully tried to contain her massive wing as Dean struggled to slide the shirt over it. For the first time, he noticed the way her feathers felt. They were all out of place, stressed and irritated. Some were badly damaged and others were covered in half-dried blood. There were a few areas on her wing that weren't as damaged. Not only were they soft and smooth, but Sam was surprised to realize they were warm as well. He was slightly reluctant to let go. "Let's get the left side first. We can move her right arm more without hurting her and the second arm always needs to move more." Sam rotated his right shoulder. He had too much experience with arm and shoulder injuries.

His shirt was ridiculously huge on her, but it was a lot easier than working with something tight or too small. Sam and Dean carefully moved her and sat her up against a nearby wall. "We're going to need Cass's help if we don't want to damage her other wing, Dean."

"Yeah, I think you're right. I'll go grab him and be right back." Dean left and Sam was alone with the angel once again.

The extra-large shirt went a long way to cover her up without being buttoned, but Sam felt guilty leaving her like that. It didn't seem right. Her head was tilted uncomfortably to the side as well. He crouched in front of her and gently touched her cheek to tilt her head forward. Next, he quietly moved to button the shirt. Sam thought she stirred slightly as worked. He paused midway, and after a tense moment, he decided that he'd imagined it and finished. As he reached to brush her hair away from her face, Dean and Cass's voices could be heard from the hallway behind him.

A sudden gasp and painful groan startled Sam and brought his focus back in to the room. Her face contorted into a grimace.

"Hey. Hey, it's ok. You're safe. I'm—"

Her hand shot out and caught Sam's wrist as her eyes snapped open. Sam's stomach flipped and he gasped. Her eyes glowed with the same radiance—if not brighter—than any other angel he'd encountered. They also burned red as intensely as any crossroads demon. He'd only seen the combination in one other being and he felt as if her eyes could cut and slice right through him from beneath her dark eyelashes.

"Sam Winchester."


End file.
